


don’t judge a book by its cover

by Magali_Dragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Bookstores, Day 3: Books Appreciation, F/M, Idiots in Love, Jonerys Week, Jonerys Week 2020, Nerdiness, Romantic Fluff, but also not really, dany is a major dork and does not put up with it, jon is a major dork and snob, kind of like ‘notting hill’
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Jon Snow owns and operates “The Wall Books” among other things. One day his world changes forever when famous actress Daenerys Targaryen comes in, what ensues is the highest levels of book nerdiness, awkwardness, and maybe even true love.For Jonerys Week 2020/Dream of Spring; Day 3: Books appreciation promptAlso spot the cameos of some of my favorite fics! 🙈
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 106
Kudos: 376





	don’t judge a book by its cover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NorthernLights37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernLights37/gifts), [atetheredmind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/gifts), [aliciutza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/gifts), [ashleyfanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfanfic/gifts), [justwanderingneverlost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/gifts), [DracoIgnis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/gifts), [Dragon_and_Direwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_Direwolf/gifts), [NoOrdinaryLines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOrdinaryLines/gifts), [QuietlyAnonForThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyAnonForThis/gifts).



> I am going to be candid. This was my favorite fic I have ever written for Jonerys. You all may disagree. I loved writing it and it has been killing me to hold on posting it until now. Not only do they share convos about MY favorite books but also books that have been used in some of my other fics for title and chapter inspirations.
> 
> Further, you will see some familiar references to not just books but some of my favorite Jonerys fanfics! This fic is dedicated to all the authors and creators in this fandom who I aspire to be, admire, and who make this fandom all it is for me. They are a lovely group who never cease to amaze and entertain and I am always in awe of what they conjure. Thank you to the ones I have noted above and call out in the fic, but there are just so many I cannot name them all!
> 
> Complete list of the cameo fics and authors at the end!

_"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, a man who never reads lives only one"_

**\- George R. R. Martin**

* * *

“Son of a bitch.”

Jon Snow picked up another discarded book in the wrong section—who thought to put _The Lord of the Rings_ in mystery? It was clearly high fantasy and quite possibly one of the greatest worldbuilding and lore of any modern piece of literature. He hugged the thick paperback version reverently to his chest, moving around the corner of the high, crammed bookcases, a narrow aisle forcing him to move sideways for a moment, and carried it towards its correct location in fantasy. He contemplated adding a new section, perhaps _Fantasy Classics._ He glanced at the copy and made a note to just move all the copies he had upstairs to the Classics section.

He set it down anyway in its correct place and turned again to go around one of the shelves, where he spotted a knocked over stack of the _Tale of Snow and Flame_ books, these ones a special edition illustrated version. He pursed his lips, wishing he did not need to keep them up front. Except it was his sister’s idea, since the author had received several requests from a production company to purchase the rights for a miniseries. The author was rather mysterious, no one knew who they were. He ran his fingers through his springy raven curls and tugged at one of the few elastic bands he wore on his wrist, using it to tie half of the curls back into a knot, to keep them from his eyes—which were hidden behind his round frameless glasses.

The novels were heavy, bound in leather, and probably weighed a pound each, so he had to give it to the person who managed to send them scattering on the floor and wondered how come he hadn’t heard it. He must have been upstairs in his office. Sometimes when he got into the zone, he could hear nothing over the sound of his old typewriter, keys clacking away. His sister joked that he could not try to be more stereotypical grouchy author if he tried, sitting there at his old desk puffing on a cigarette, with his old typewriter and a scarf around his neck. _Oh well_ , he sighed, kneeling down onto the old, creaky faded floorboards, and began to restack them on the display, smoothing his rough palm over the embossed covers and dusting them.

There was too much to do, he really didn’t feel like having to fix this display along with his other tasks. He knew he shouldn’t have sent Olly on break. It probably wouldn’t have mattered, the kid was so scatter-brained, Jon half believed he would come in and the kid would stab him out of surprise. He was always on his phone or sneaking comics and graphic novels to read at the front desk. He needed to get the store straightened up and organized so he could sit down and not have to worry about it later when it came time to work on his draft. His editor was on him for being late with the latest chapters. Davos was kind, but with such a fatherly manner when he peered over the top of his bifocals, blue eyes scanning him like he could see into his mind, Jon felt like he’d come in late from curfew and was going to get grounded.

He finished with the display and moved around to fix some of the books that were on a table near the entrance to the fantasy section when he heard the door. The little silver bell above the door to _The Wall Books_ tinkled, a merry chime, as someone entered, the warped pane of the glass inset on the door rattling when the person carefully closed it behind them. He called over his shoulder, through the narrow, topping shelves. “I’ll be with you in a moment!”

“Just browsing,” a distinctly feminine voice called softly.

The tone in it warned him not to bother, he could hear it clear as day, which was fine by him. It was the people dealing aspect of running a bookstore that Jon did not fancy, but he did it because the place used to belong to the man who had been his mentor, who encouraged him to write out the crazy ideas of kings, dragons, wolves, and family lore that wandered in his head and he used to scribble out on the back of old receipts and fill in notebooks instead of actual schoolwork. When Maester Aemon passed away, Jon had been stunned to discover the old blind man had left him the bookstore, provided Jon get extra help to assist in its running so he could keep working on his novels.

If the world knew that _The Crown Lands Times_ bestselling author and winner of numerous awards for his series was actually a bookseller in the far North, he wasn’t so sure they would be as big of fans as his novels. Or maybe they would figure it made sense, as Winterfell was the center of ancient history and tales that figured heavily in his books. They would definitely be shocked to find that he was currently on his knees, shoving books into a case that was so old he kept waiting for it to fall over one day.

The customer made no sound from wherever she was hiding. Once or twice he heard light creaks, unable to be helped given the age of the store. Or the fact that just about every single book in Westeros sat on the shelves. Jon got to his feet, dusting the knees of his jeans. He went around another stack, where he’d been doing Olly’s job in stocking the newest book of the _Archer and the Prey_ series on the Young Adult new release shelf. He stopped in his tracks, surprise causing his jaw to drop slightly at the customer who was currently at the end of the aisle, in the romance section, reading the back of one of the books in the _Death is Not a Lover_ series.

_She’s so tiny._

That was the first thing that popped into his head. He thought she might have been, he’d heard she was very small and sometimes they needed to cast costars who were shorter than average or stick her in stilt-like heels to bring her up to size. The worn leather jacket she wore hugged her slim figure; a figure which happened to be rounded in the best areas. She might have been what someone could call “skinny” but he didn’t think that word fit for someone who just looked… _woman._ Curvy hips, breasts, and trim thighs encased in a white t-shirt and dark jeans. Instead of the heels he’d seen her wearing at award shows—always on the cover of the magazines his sister Sansa had scattered all over her apartment— she wore a pair of snowy white trainers. Large round tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose and she had her phone in her free hand, checking something on it as she darted a glance towards the back of the book.

 _What is she doing here? How? Why?_ Winterfell might gather tourists during the winter for the atmosphere and sports when it snowed and generally had a steady flow of them in the autumn, but he did not think someone as famous as her had ever set foot in his store. Even if the castle at the top of the hill belonged to his family, he didn’t associate with the famous faces that could have passed through. He hoped no one else would come in; he did not want to deal with fans. A quick look towards the front window, crammed with book displays but still allowing a bit of the sunlight from the nice Northern day to filter into the dark space told him no one had followed her and there weren’t any paparazzi or rabid fans clamoring for her.

Jon glanced towards the woman again, taking a few steps towards her and wiping his suddenly sweaty, nervous palms on his thighs. “Er…” He cleared his throat, gesturing towards the book as she lifted her face to meet his gaze, silently questioning him. “Er…you’re holding the second in the series. The first is…” He reached over her shoulder—not difficult she was so little—plucking another book from the shelf, accidentally knocking his elbow into her breast as he lowered his arm. He jumped slightly, cheeks warming. “Er…sorry.” _Gods Jon, you’re a dumbass._

A little smirk pulled on her lips. He noted her lips were quite pink, with only gloss on them and no lipstick. “No harm,” she murmured. Her voice was huskier than he thought it would be. She pushed her glasses up a little higher on her from where they were falling. The frames glinted from the lamp above them and he took note that yes, her eyes really were lavender, they were not contacts. She smiled at the book he held. “ _Sinfully Yours_ , yes I read that one, I’m looking for the third.”

“You’ve got the second there.”

“Oh, so you don’t have the third one?”

Jon frowned slightly, lips pressing together in a line. He didn’t like the insinuation he didn’t carry all copies of an available series. Of course he did! “I do, but if it isn’t on the shelf it probably hasn’t been restocked, I can check for you.”

“That’s fine, I can always order it online.”

A cold flame erupted in his heart. “Online booksellers are killing the independent ones you know. If I do not have it in the back, I can always order it from the publisher and have it shipped here,” Jon said, trying to keep his tone even and cool. His sister Arya always laughed at how quiet he could be, but when he got mad, he got _mad._ The idea of not even waiting for him to check before just going to buy it online got his ire going. He didn’t think it worth it to chase a customer out of his store, but if he had to, fine, let it be her. He didn’t expect she would be sticking around very long anyway; wasn’t like she was local.

Given that she was an actress who made her name and fortune in a fantasy television show, he was surprised she was even in a bookstore. Jon hadn’t even watched most of it. It became clear after the writers ran out of source material, they were making it up as they went along and he didn’t care for that, although Arya kept going to the bitter end. The day after the series finale she’d arrived in his store and tried to grab all the copies of the books the show was based on to throw them out, to make a stand against what she perceived was a bait and switch. He had no idea what got into her, but he made a note to never find out what happened at the end of that show.

On the show her character had silver hair. In person she also had silver hair, which he guessed if it was real was a really good dye job or a very convincing wig. The loose curls were tugged into a series of complicated braids from her face, knotted together with some silver clips and then hung free with the rest of the curls to the small of her back. She smiled again and her eyes crinkled up, almost disappearing into her face. _That’s kind of cute._ “Relax, you can check the back. I’ll keep looking around.”

Jon wrinkled his nose, nodding towards one of the displays. He noted they were in the romance section. “If you like this series, perhaps you might like to try the novel _Dragons Dark and Deep._ It just arrived.”

“I’ve read it already.”

He blinked. “Oh, well…”

“It was very good; I love the development of the love story between the queen and her ally-turned-lover. Set against a civil war, good versus evil…the sex scenes were amazing.” She spoke with confidence, describing the book, and casually tossed over her shoulder, meandering a bit and dancing fingers over the spines of the books, old interspersed with new. “I find that romances are actually some of the better written genres, they get a bad reputation as do the people who read them, many of whom are not just women.”

At his sides, he clenched his hands into fists, frowning, wondering if she was trying to goad him into an argument. “I don’t like romances much.”

“More of a fantasy geek?”

“That’s stereotypical.”

“And how is that?” She smiled, taking another book from the shelf, but did not wait for his answer; he was thrown off balance which he guessed might have been her aim. She flicked through the book in her hands, eyebrows lifting at the description in the jacket cover. “This looks rather interesting.”

He turned pink, recognizing the cover. “It’s about a threesome.”

“Oh my and you sell this here? But what of the children?” She teased, tapping the corner of the book cover to her cheek, that little smirk still playing around her lips. Jon had the sudden urge to kiss it off. He closed his eyes tight, focusing. _Down._ He opened his eyes again, meeting her gaze, and she laughed. She looked back at the book, turning to one of the first pages. “Oh, this is part of a series too.”

“Yes it’s called _Sex in the Cities._ ”

“About the relationship between two twin brothers and their lover? Fascinating…I love a non-conventional romance.” She flicked it open, eyebrows rising. She mumbled, “The artwork is incredible.”

“Hmm.” He was turning pink now, wishing she would put that book down. He hadn’t read it, but it was a big seller. He moved to walk away. “I’ll go get that other book for you.”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just keep browsing.”

Jon hurried away, chastising himself for getting flustered as she held a copy of the rather erotic book. He didn’t know what got into him, he was never bothered this much by customers. He might hate dealing with them, but that was more perturbed than truly flustered. He didn’t know what she was even doing there. She was an actress right, didn’t that meant she had someone else reading things for her and all she had to do was memorize lines?

 _Maybe she’s getting a book for whatever her new movie is or something._ Jon went downstairs to the storeroom, rummaged in some of the boxes, and snagged the one he needed, and hurried back up, but she wasn’t there where he left her. He didn’t want to call her name, just in case someone else was there. _Maybe she ran off._ He ran his tongue over his teeth, lifting his gaze to the wooden loft above his head, hearing light creaking of the old wide floorboards.

He set the book on the counter and went upstairs, finding her sitting on one of the little couches near the big stone fireplace, where Aemon liked to sit and wax on about his times as a Maester at the Citadel or have someone read to him as his eyesight had left him decades ago. She had a little stack of books on a small table beside her and was flicking through one, her legs crossed and foot popping up and down. “I found the book you wanted, it’s on the counter downstairs, let me know when you’re done and I can ring you up,” he said, breaking the quiet.

Silver eyebrows lifted over her glasses and she nodded, returning to the book in her hands. Jon ran his tongue over his teeth, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the railing of the stairs. He wasn’t sure where he should go or what he should do now. He wondered what she was doing there. She turned another page, not looking at him when she spoke, almost amused. “Do you always watch your customers read or is it just me?”

She glanced up at him again, slightly annoyed as well as amused. He pinked again. “Just thought that the books downstairs might be more your speed,” he mumbled, gazing around the loft, with its low slanted ceilings and books stuffed in every nook and cranny. No one really came up here.

“My speed?” Those vibrant lavender eyes darted up to meet his gray ones. Her voice cooled. “What do you mean?”

“Just that the mysteries and fantasy genre seems more your alley, didn’t think you’d be interested in the classics.”

The pert plump red lips that had been smirking at him downstairs now pressed to a fine line. “Do you always insult your customers’ intelligence?” she snapped.

 _Well shit._ “Ah…I just meant…”

“I think I know what you meant Mr. Snow.”

He stared at her dumbly. “How do you know my name?”

“It’s on the front door,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. He flushed, embarrassed. _Oh yeah, duh._ She uncrossed her legs, leaning back in the chair, tapping her nails on the book she kept in her lap. “Jon Snow, proprietor. Tell me Jon Snow, what makes you think I don’t read high literature? Is it because I was also perusing romance, fantasy, and suspense genres downstairs or the young adult section? Or was it the series about a threesome that I also plan on buying? No, it’s the fact that I’m a woman and so I can’t possibly be interested in anything other than those types of books, right? Or is it because I’m an actress and I must be a ditz?”

It was the first acknowledgment she was who she was, not that there was much question there. At least she brought it up. The soft lilting accent on some of her words muddled his mind, along with the creeping heat that made its way on his cheeks above his dark beard. He stammered. “Sorry I uh…I didn’t mean to…” He blew out a hard breath, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” _Gods where is Olly? I shouldn’t even be here dealing with this._ He dropped his hands to his sides, slumping shoulders, apologetic. “I really am…I didn’t mean to insult you.” He waved a hand around the books. “Take whatever you want. I’m sorry.”

She smiled again, but there was still a challenge in her eyes. “I like the books downstairs and I like the books upstairs; I like books in general.” She laughed. It made his toes curl, warmed something inside of his chest. She pursed her lips again and tapped her fingers on the armrest; she looked like a queen. “My brother told me to never trust anyone who has a television bigger than their bookshelf.”

 _Sounds like I might like your brother._ He actually smiled this time, not forcing it. “I like that approach.”

“How big is your television Jon Snow?”

The way she said it, the sweep of her gaze from his eyes down his worn flannel shirt and to the bottoms of his scuffed boots and back up again, had him flushing. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but she uncrossed and then crossed her legs again, switching them, and it seemed her throat constricted, glancing around the small loft again. He swallowed hard. “I don’t have a television.”

“None at all?”

“If I need to watch something, I just use my laptop.”

She propped her head in her hand, intrigued. “I thought you might be a typewriter guy.”

Now it was his turn to be a little affronted. Even if it was true. “And why is that?”

“Glasses, flannel, skinny jeans, and your Chelsea boots. Let me guess, you also smoke and love a whiskey?”

 _Damnit, she had him._ He wrinkled his nose. “I wear glasses because I hate contacts, flannel because it’s comfortable, skinny jeans because they don’t make me look short, and I like these boots, but I didn’t buy them.” He was about to say his sister did, but that made its sound like he couldn’t fend for himself, so he kept his mouth closed. He scowled again. “You’re making me seem foolish.”

“ _The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”_

He replied automatically. “Shakespeare, _As You Like It._ ”

“Very good Mr. Snow.”

He rolled his eyes, hands moving deeper into his pockets, fisting tight. Made sense for her to know that. “Well, Shakespeare would be up your ally.” It was the only acknowledgment he’d given that he knew who she was.

A light tilt of her head was her only reaction. One of the braids looked like it might come loose from the pins he could see hiding underneath. “Hmm, yes the Bard is a favorite of mine, I daresay.” She licked her lips. “But I don’t just know his comedies.”

“ _Brevity is the soul of wit._ ”

“Hamlet,” she said immediately. She rolled her eyes. “Give me something a little more difficult Mr. Snow, that was too easy.” She got up, a quick fluid motion, from the chair and pushed the old weathered copy of _Frankenstein_ she had been holding to his chest. He grabbed it, fingers lightly brushing over the top of her hand. It was very soft beneath his callused fingertips. Her eyes darted down to it and then quickly to his again, but she said nothing.

Although did he detect a slight hitch in her breath? He tried not to smile. Maybe he was getting to her as she was to him, although he hated to admit it. He shouldn’t be doing this with a customer. With a _famous_ customer of all people. What if she went out there on one of those stupid social sites like Ravengram or Squwak or something and trashed his establishment? Maester Aemon would return to haunt him. He wrapped his fingers around the slim copy of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s masterpiece, his eyes following her small form as she wandered between the shelves, calling out as she searched for something.

“You seem to fancy yourself an expert on literature, so tell me, what do you believe the underlying theme of _Hamlet_ really is?”

“Revenge, family, madness,” he said. He tapped the book in his hands against the railing. His heart surged, excited at having a literature discussion. None of his friends cared about books the way he did. “What about _Frankenstein_?”

“Dr. Frankenstein created his monster, but he had to be the one to destroy it, ergo we are the only ones who can destroy our monsters, whatever they may be, internal or external.” She emerged, holding another book, clearly one she’d hunted down. She pushed the bag that was crosswise over her chest around, so it hit her hip when she sauntered towards him. She was grinning now. “Tell me if you are so into Shakespeare and gothic literature, what about another British classic? Jane Austen. I find men never read…”

“ _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife._ ” Now he was going. He chuckled. “Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows Jane Austen.”

The tinkle in her laugh reminded him of the bell above the door downstairs. She wagged her finger at him. “Ah, but Mr. Snow, everyone knows _Pride and Prejudice_ but Jane Austen’s greatest novel is her last one. _Persuasion._ ”

His stomach dropped; he didn’t know that one. He shifted on his feet. “ _The lady doth protest too much,”_ he said instead, hoping she would drop their little argument. He moved to step back, towards the stairs. “I can go ring these up for you.”

Another wag of her finger. She pressed towards him. “No, no, no Mr. Snow. You claim to be an expert on literature.”

“I do not!”

“Hmm, sure seems like it. _Persuasion_ is the best Austen, I challenge anyone to this debate.”

“And why is that?”

Her mouth dropped, eyes widening. “Why? Because the relationship between Captain Wentworth and Anne is far more complex and layered than that of any of her other couples. They start off in opposite situations and end completely reversed, their love never falters, never changes, if anything it intensifies over time but social circumstances being what they are, the anger they still hold, the shame and then…” she trailed off, the apples of her cheeks colored pink and her lavender eyes darkening. She seemed to be breathing heavily, catching herself. She swallowed hard, moving backwards a little from where she’d been encroaching in his space, almost touching his chest. She straightened. “Sorry, I get carried away.”

He smiled; he was fascinated by this woman. “I wouldn’t know.”

Now it was her turn to blink at him, stunned. “You wouldn’t know?”

“I haven’t read it yet.”

“Aha!” She swung her finger towards him, pointing it like a sword, grinning, having called him out. She clutched the books to her chest, her tone shifting, reciting. “ _You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you. There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison._ ”

He flushed. She was so passionate. He was getting a private performance from a famous actress himself. This had gotten quite out of hand. She dropped her hands to her sides, grinning. He’d certainly been had, that was for sure. He cleared his throat, trying to get a grasp on the situation. “Well I guess I’ll have to put it on my ‘to read’ stack.”

“Hmm, I thought you might be someone who didn’t use e-readers,” she teased. She pushed the copy of _Persuasion_ against him again. She grinned; her eyes might have been purple, but he could see flecks of gold around the pupils. His stomach flipped. “I guess I win this little argument. You never had a chance though. _Beware for I am fearless, and therefore powerful._ ”

 _Well that is quite the truth._ His gaze followed her trim body down the stairs, thinking of her parting shot. Something didn’t make sense to him. The words she’d just spoken ran over and over in his head. He turned, jogging down after her, careful not to trip and fall on the uneven narrow staircase. He frowned again, moving around the tall wooden countertop to the computer to ring her up. She rummaged in her bag for her wallet. “Hey wait a second, that quote…”

“Yes?”

“It’s from _Frankenstein_!”

“It certainly is.”

“But you’ve read it!”

“I like to reread my favorites,” she explained, grinning. She rolled her eyes. “And I happen to be staying in the area for a couple months. I thought I would purchase a new copy of an old favorite for myself, along with some new ones.” She tapped the _Death is Not a Lover_ book. “And also maybe some others.” Her eyes scanned behind him, to the shelf of books Aemon had insisted he keep behind the counter on display. Aemon was quite proud of them, even if they embarrassed Jon each time, he caught sight of them. Her smooth brow wrinkled with a puckered frown. “Hey, those are the Aegon Summer books.”

Jon tried not to smile; maybe it was his turn to surprise her. “They are.”

“Is that…” She leaned over the counter to get a better look; he looked away, her t-shirt neck gaping slightly to show off the top swells of her breasts. A squeal escaped her. “Oh my gods! That is! His first book is out of print now, but you have it?” She looked eager, grinning now, like a child in a candy store, vibrating in place. “ _The Night’s Watch_? It is impossible to find. It’s the only one of his that I haven’t read it yet.”

He turned around and picked the copy of the book from the shelf, setting it down with her others. It was out of print, only a few hundred released. He leaned on the counter, palms curling around the worn oak countertop, forearms flexing. “Anything else?”

She rolled her eyes at him, putting on a falsetto voice. “ _Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.”_

“ _As You Like It_ again, come on give me something easy.” Jon had no idea what he was doing, he could not flirt, and nor did he want to. This was someone who he had no business even carrying on this type of conversation with, it could go wrong so horribly, as it had earlier. He was lucky he’d somehow fallen his way out of that debacle and while this was fun, he didn’t want her to stick around too long.

Because he was starting to wonder what it would be like if he stammered out an invite for coffee.

 _No you dumbass, there’s no way she would want to go out with you. She’s a famous actress._ He ducked his head and tried to focus on the computer to ring up her purchases. She stared up at the Aegon Summer display, finger up and running through the air, like she was trying to determine if any of the titles up there were ones she hadn’t read. Jon shoved a bookmark into the Aegon Summer book and finished ringing her up, about to tell her the total, but she had moved away, now looking at the wall of photos beside the counter and the glass case of first editions and rare books.

He looked away and was just putting her books into one of the canvas bags they used instead of plastic when he heard a strange little gasp from her. Startled, he glanced up and saw she was pressing her face to the glass case, fingers almost digging into it. “Are you alright? Something I can help with?”

“You have a first edition copy of the _Jade Compendium_?” There was a hushed, hallowed echo in her question. She turned, face pink and eyes wide as saucers. She was vibrating in place. “Oh my gods, this is incredible…an Aegon Summer book I haven’t read and now this…”

 _The Jade Compendium_ was an ancient text from the Citadel itself, documenting the history of Westeros and many of the stories of the ancient families, fables and all, and it had been his favorite when he was younger, stealing away to look at the copy that his father had at their home. It wasn’t until he was older and met Aemon and saw that Aemon held an actual first edition of it, his copy when he was a young man in training at the Citadel, that Jon truly felt like he’d come across a treasure. This particular copy sat in the center of the shelf, in its humidity-controlled box and flanked on either side by photos of Aemon.

The case also contained a few rare books from the North, which supplemented the Compendium. Telling tales of White Walkers and the Night King. He drew upon many of them in his books as well. He nodded and came around to stand next to her. “It isn’t for sale,” he thought to add, wondering if she thought she could just purchase it, as rich and famous as she was.

She shook her head, whispering. “Of course not, oh gods, look at it. It is gorgeous.” She glanced at the photo and her mouth formed a tiny little ‘o’ again. “Is that Maester Aemon?”

Now he was surprised. “Uh…yeah. You knew him?” He wasn’t sure Aemon had ever mentioned knowing a famous actress.

The wide purple eyes met his. “He was my great uncle.”

Jon thought he’d been surprised before, but whoa. His mouth dropped. _Huh?_ “Ah…I wasn’t…what?” He had no idea Aemon had any family remaining. He never suspected. Aemon always lived alone in the North, had been a professor at Castle Black, way up at the Wall, it was where Jon met him, when he’d been sent there as a kid. He gaped at her. “He…what?” he repeated.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes. He dropped his surname as is custom for Maesters of the Citadel, it is part of their order. I didn’t realize until after he’d died, sadly.” She cocked her head, giving him a funny look. “You knew him?”

“Yes, he taught me…kind of was my mentor,” Jon blurted out. He looked from the book to her again. His teeth snapped out, chewing his bottom lip. _It couldn’t hurt…_ He felt dumb, shuffling his feet in place. “Um, after we ah…well after we close I can…can take it out for you if you like. You could look at it.”

Those beautiful eyes exploded in color, wide and awed. She nodded. “Oh yes…yes please, I…” Suddenly a shadow crossed over them, wary. “You aren’t just doing this because of me, right?”

He frowned. “Well yes.”

The shadow turned into a black curtain, sweeping over the glee. She moved from the case, arms crossing over her chest. “I do not need you to make special accommodations for me because of who I am. Thank you, Mr. Snow. I will take my books and be on my way.”

 _Wait…what? What the seven hells did he do?_ He stood rooted in place for a moment, the cold chill of her moving away freezing him. He blinked, running through what he’d said. Nothing he said was as bad as what he’d said earlier. He didn’t insult her, he didn’t think. A few more times and then it dawned on him. _Son of a…_ He closed his eyes, slapped himself upside the head, and fisted his hands nervously together again. “Ah, damnit, no…gods no, that’s not it!” He hurried after her, around the counter. “No not because of who you are, but because of well, _who you are._ ”

Now she looked at him like he really was stupid. “What?” she snapped.

Underneath the counter, he felt the great white wolf that was his counterpart shift, moving to get out and stretch. The flash of blinding white startled her back from the counter, and she cried out. “What is _that_?”

“Oh it’s Ghost, he won’t hurt you.”

“Is that a wolf?” she whispered, curiously leaning forward.

He nodded, but Ghost was not the point of this conversation right now. He scowled at the beast; whose presence distracted him. Ghost sat back on his haunches, yawning and giving him a dirty look. Also a pitying one. “I’m terrible at this,” he mumbled, scrubbing his face again. He reached to pull at his curls, tugging the bun free and sending them out, rather wild. She looked at his hair, mouth still a little open and tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, which cut across her chest. Jon could not even admire how the strap nestled between her breasts which were probably works of art. He had to fix this.

He pointed to the picture of Aemon that happened to be behind the counter, next to the Aegon Summer books. “I’m not doing this because of you. It’s him. Because of him. I’m doing this because of who you are, because of him. He’s your uncle, right? You deserve to look at the book. Not because of well, because of who you also are.”

She finally seemed to realize what he was talking about. Now it was her turn to smile. The twinkle returned to her eyes. “I understand.”

“I’m not good with this,” he mumbled to himself, picking up her bag and shoving it forcefully towards her, even though she had not paid yet.

A couple crisp bank notes passed over to his hand. She lingered, fingers stroking at his. He slowly pulled his back, heart thudding against his ribs. She laughed. “No, you really are not good at this Mr. Snow.” She looked up at the books above his head, almost longingly. She whispered, “I really do like those Aegon Summer novels.”

He pursed his lips. “Really?”

“Hmm, I know everyone likes the _A Tale of Snow and Flame_ series he did, which is fine, I do as well, but the first standalone novel he did, _The Long Night_ I really enjoyed that one.” Her cheeks pinked slightly. “I suppose you might call me a fangirl of it. I probably shouldn’t say but…” She nibbled her lower lip, debating internally over spilling some secret. He waited; breath held. She exhaled, laughing. “This might sound absolutely ridiculous, but I um, I go online sometimes. Read theories and stuff. It just really like them. All the fantasy is great but the worldbuilding, the meanings behind everything, and the themes he puts out there about family and identity and love…” She caught herself and rolled her eyes. “But here you were thinking all I liked was romance.”

He winced. “My mistake, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” She smirked. “You should give the romance genre a try.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Have you read _Something Stupid_?”

That was one of her movies, he remembered, but he didn’t know it came from a book. He shook his head, choosing not to mention the movie to her. They hadn’t commented on her fame at all, or that of course he knew who she was. He suspected she liked that. “No, I haven’t.”

“It’s hilarious. Romantic comedy at its finest. What about _The Pirate Bride_?”

“Nope.”

She grabbed for her heart, gasping dramatically. She grinned. “Well then, let me introduce you. You can add them to your pile with _Persuasion._ ” She turned away and went back into the stacks of books again, leaving him to gape after her, amazed.

 _She liked the Aegon Summer books and went online and read theories? Wow…_ He swished his lips, remembering the offers he’d gotten. He wondered…he reached into his back pocket and checked, scanning through his email, trying to locate one of the many requests from Davos to meet with the lawyers to discuss film rights.

The bell tinkled, distracting him, and the door opened loudly. He looked up, stomach dropping into his feet when he saw Olly and a couple of his friends coming in, followed by Samwell Tarly, the doctor across the way who had also been one of Aemon’s little pet projects way up at Castle Black. Jon nodded to him; Sam wouldn’t be a problem, but his face fell upon seeing the dark-haired young woman sprinting across the street from a banged-up Jeep, followed by her boyfriend. “Oh shit,” he mumbled, looking away and fumbling with some papers, pretending to be busy.

The door opened, bell hardly ringing as it flung back so hard, Arya jumping in. “Hey Jon! Hey Ghost!”

“Arya,” he mumbled. He looked at Olly who was in the comic book stacks. “Hey! Break’s over!” He forgot what he said until he said it. “I’ve got pages to write.”

Arya moved around the counter, like she also owned the place, ruffling Ghost’s ears. “You have the new _Archer and the Prey_ book? I need it, I’m desperate to find out what happens now that they’ve gotten out of the games alive.”

“Yeah, it’s on the New Releases shelf, but Arya…” He didn’t have a chance to try to hold her back, since the New Releases happened to be where _she_ had disappeared, but it was too late, his sister bounding off. He sighed, glancing at Gendry, who was flicking through a magazine from the rack near the window. Sometimes he wished he had never tried to sell a copy of his first book, as it brought him to Stag and Fury Publishing House, which was Gendry’s uncle’s company. Stannis Baratheon bit on the books, assigned him Davos, who showed up one day with Gendry and now he couldn’t get rid of him. Arya had decided that she “had to have him.” “Can’t you try to stop her?”

“Do you think anyone can or that she would let them?” Gendry didn’t even look up from his magazine.

“Fair point,” Jon muttered. He straightened up when Arya emerged from the stacks, her face as white as Ghost’s fur and her jaw practically unhinged. She mouthed ‘Oh my Gods!’ at him and pointed a finger to the aisle, and he tried to cut her off, shaking his head and slashing his hand near his neck, but she did not get the point. Subtlety was not a strong suit with Arya.

“Gendry!” she shouted, grabbing his elbow. “Daenerys Targaryen is here!”

Gendry frowned. “Who?”

“Daenerys Targaryen! The actress! From the _Steel Throne_ series! Remember what I was telling you? Her character got completely shit on in the series finale, I mean I’m telling you it was the worst thing to ever happen in television history.” Arya looked morose again. Jon hoped she wouldn’t start shouting about the writers again, he knew the rant by heart. “Gods I’m still not over it.” She slapped her hands on the counter, grinning. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

Sam wandered over, holding a stack of science journals and a couple of new medical textbooks Jon specially ordered for him. “Who?”

“The actress. Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Oh! She’s Gilly’s favorite actress, but how?” Sam almost dropped the journals, flustered. “Wait, she’s _here_?”

Jon could not believe this; they were going to mortify him more than he’d already mortified himself with this woman. He tried to rush them out, he could bill Sam later for the books, but it was too late. A glimpse of silver out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked up as she emerged from the shelves, that hair a beacon of light, drawing everyone towards her. She held a couple of books in her hands, walking over to the counter again. She glanced quickly at Sam and Arya, who were both gaping at her rather obviously and he thought he saw her face fall a little. She took off the tortoiseshell glasses that drew attention to her distinctive eyes and carefully folded them, hooking them into the collar of her t-shirt.

It was a fluid movement, one he was sure she had practiced and was part of her reflexes, setting the books down and reaching into her bag, removing a sunglasses case. “Um, I suggest these ones, after you read _Persuasion_.”

The books she had set down were the ones she’d mentioned, along with the _Dragons Dark and Deep_ novel and another one that he hadn’t read before, called _Remember the Time._ He picked that one up. “What’s this about?”

“It’s good. A queen hits her head and wakes up twelve years later, she has to relearn all that happened, including falling in love with her king, but there’s way more to the story too.” She pushed her large sunglasses on, her voice cool, the accent that he’d heard earlier in her passionate talk now gone. She reached into her bag again and took out her phone, holding it tight. “I’ll be going now, thank you.” She paused, a little smile again appearing. “For everything.”

Jon warmed from the inside out, his heart leaping and threatening to come out of his body. He watched her, still smiling, as she skirted around his stupid sister and friends. They were just staring at her, rude and moronic. Arya was too dumbstruck to ask for an autograph or try to talk to her, her bravado gone. His palms sweated further, and a chill went down his spine. He didn’t want to just let her leave, but…how could he go talk to her?

 _Just do it Jon._ Uncharacteristically, he knew what he had to do. He grabbed a pen from the drawer beneath the register and ran out, ignoring Arya’s surprised “What are you doing?!”

Ghost yipped behind him, which he thought an encouraging sign and rushed into the street, looking up and down, until he spotted her. The silver braids bounced on her back, heading away from him. He took off, jogging down the sidewalk. “Hey! Um, Dan…” he caught himself, not wanting to attract attention by screaming her name. There were plenty of people wandering up and down the street; it was a nice day and Winterfell rarely had those, so everyone poured out for shopping and the tourists who visited loved the quaint feel of the place.

He didn’t know why she had come into his shop or what prompted their little argument and back and forth on literature and books, and honestly, he had zero idea what had given him the boldness he had within him now, but he ran ahead of her and turned, cutting her off. He took a deep breath, laughing slightly. “Um, Daenerys, hey.” It was the first time he had used her name.

She jerked her head side to side, teeth set, gritting, “Excuse me.”

“Look I just…”

“What are you doing?” she hissed. Eyebrows arched over her glasses. “Is something wrong?”

He straightened up, calling upon all his strength, and prayed to the gods not to fuck this up. “We didn’t arrange a time for you to read the Compendium.” He reached for her canvas bag and she handed it to him almost wordlessly, too stunned to question his behavior. He grabbed the Aegon Summer book and flicked it open to the title page, the bookmark he’d stuffed in almost falling out. He took the bookmark and scribbled _7pm, The Wall Books, 6pm Castle Black Coffee_. He slipped the bookmark back into the pages and then met her hidden gaze. He had no idea how she was taking this and he thought that was probably for the best. Adrenaline surged in his veins. _Now or never._ “Would you like this book signed?”

She wrinkled her nose. “What?”

“The Aegon Summer book, would you like it signed?”

“But…” Now she was confused. She shook her head, laughing, probably thought him mad. “You can’t get it signed. No one knows who Aegon Summer is, he doesn’t do author signings or meetings, it’s part of the mystery.”

Jon smiled and placed his pen on the page, scribbling while he spoke. “Aegon Summer is a penname, you see the author was worried what people might think, someone like him writing a book and all…and well, he doesn’t like the spotlight. He’s writing a new book. I can get you an advance copy if you’re interested.”

“An advance copy of Aegon Summer’s new book? Yeah right,” she scoffed. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, silver hair pushing out at the movement. Now he could see her better, the disbelief clear. She rolled her eyes. “You’re making this all up. I’ve been trying to get ahold of him. I want to get the rights to his books, and it hasn’t happened. Because he isn’t real.”

 _Oh I know. About everything._ “Well if he knew it was you, maybe he’d make an exception,” he murmured. He tightened his grip on the book, knowing this would probably irritate her.

It did. She scowled. “Excuse me?”

Jon turned the book around to her, trying not to smile. “Aegon Summer is a pen name for Jon Snow.” He handed it back to her. She stared at it mouth open at the signature. It was the same one that was at the back of the book, where the ‘About the Author’ usually went. Just his Aegon Summer signature proving he was a real person, but that was it. Except instead of just the name, he’d written: _**For Daenerys, I hope you like this one, Jon Snow, a.k.a. Aegon Summer**_.

He took a deep breath, figuring he had everything to gain and nothing to lose, so he left her with a parting shot. “See you at six for coffee.”

And he walked off, figuring he would pass out when he got back up to his office.

If it worked, it worked. If not, he had a good story to tell one day.

* * *

Around a quarter past six, Jon figured she had gotten a well-deserved and appropriate restraining order against him or otherwise cleared out of town. A bit of digging unearthed articles he didn’t even know existed that one of her movies would be filming at Winterfell—certainly someone in his family had told him?—along with the Wolfswood and a few of the other smaller castles around. It would be for a few months, off and on, so there might be celebrity sightings.

She’d been pretty incognito at the bookstore and he guessed she’d never be seen again in town after his screwup earlier. He tapped his fingers on his coffee cup and was about to get up, to go back to his office and keep plugging away at the troublesome chapter of his book, forgetting that time where he thought he had balls enough to ask out a famous actress after making a total fool of himself, when a shadow crossed over the table. He lifted his gaze, mouth opening, staring up at her.

She’d changed, he thought. Silver braids were the same, but instead of the casual outfit from earlier she now wore black pants that looked to be made of some silky material that probably cost more than his car, a pair of high black heels, a slinky camisole of some sort and a black blazer. A dragon brooch at the lapel was her only adornment. She smiled down at him, a hand going to her hip.

“Daenerys,” he blurted.

“Apologies for being late, I got lost.” She wagged her phone with her freehand. “My phone’s GPS got all messed up with the trees and I guess you just don’t have great coverage here. Anyway, here I am.” She cocked her head, smiling. “I was thinking instead of coffee we go for a drink and dinner? There’s a pub nearby I wanted to try. Do you know it? It’s called The Wildling. A bunch of guys on set were talking about it, seems fun.”

His throat had gone dry the second he got sight of her, so he coughed as he spoke, choking on his words. “Um…um…yeah er…it’s my friend Tormund’s. It’s pretty divey though.” He could not imagine the embarrassment for both of them if he walked into Tormund’s pub with Daenerys Targaryen.

“I like dives.” She stepped aside as he pushed back his chair, peering at her. _Was she real? She couldn’t be._ She grinned and offered her arm to him. “Buy me a drink Jon Snow and tell me about your newest book.” She laughed. “Or should I call you Aegon instead?”

The tension diffused, he rolled his eyes, taking her arm and led her from the shop. “Jon is fine.”

“Call me Dany then.”

Holding open the door, Jon grinned. It suited her. “Dany.”

“Did you start reading _Persuasion_ yet?”

“Have to admit I was a little busy wondering if you were going to sic someone on me for overstepping myself,” he admitted sheepishly, walking down the street with her at his side.

Dany arched her brow. “The night is still young.” She nudged him and smiled again. “I like someone who reads. You see…” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, quoting: “ _A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies…”_

“ _The man who never reads lives only one,_ ” he finished.

They both smiled wide at each other and somehow forgot completely of going to the pub, finding themselves back at the closed bookstore, pouring over the _Jade Compendium_ , laughing and arguing over favorite books and themes long into the night, and answering questions about his books, which he found she was eager to learn anything and everything about. They even talked about her attempts—strong as they were, he admitted—to find out who he was and get him to sell the rights to his books so she could make movies out of them. He was strongly considering it if she was involved. She was a true fan, it was obvious in how she tried to get him to spill on the true parentage of his lead male character or give up who would ultimately rule over the lands in his stories.

Eventually, their talk faded, and he found himself kissing her, discovering she tasted like sunshine, fire, and pure sweetness. By the time the sun was coming up, they were fast asleep on the floor of the office above the store and Jon knew he was without a doubt, head-over-heels, in love with Daenerys Targaryen. He didn't even care if he barely knew her, there was no way he felt anything but love for the tiny woman who was curled into his side, smiling in her sleep, her foot atop one of his books, which she'd highlighted with notes on foreshadowing the romance between his two main characters.

When she woke, they didn't have much time, kissing hurriedly at the front door, as she stumbled out to rush to the set of her movie, which was filming at one of the old keeps nearby. She made him promise he would visit her there later that day, and he knew of course he would, because he would not be able to spend another day without her, and given how she kissed him when she left, he was pretty sure she felt the same.

High on Daenerys, he returned to the office and picked up a fresh sheet of paper, sticking it into the typewriter. He took a deep breath, grinning stupidly, and began to type furiously, keys clacking. Ghost glared at him for disturbing the quiet, but he had an idea for a new book and he absolutely had to get it out. 

I _t would be about a queen with silver hair and violet eyes, who really liked dragons…_

**Author's Note:**

> Fics referenced and their brilliant authors:
> 
> [Archer and the Prey, atetheredmind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497696/chapters/56344690)  
> [Death is not a lover...oh yes he is series, aliciutza](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1176623)  
> [The Dragons Dark and Deep, ashleyfanfic and justwanderingneverlost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213204/chapters/45678769)  
> [The Pirate Bride, justwanderingneverlost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623195/chapters/56693440)  
> [Sex and the Cities series, Dracoignisworld and DragonandDirewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593268)  
> [Remember the Time, NorthernLights37 and NoOrdinaryLines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247386/chapters/61203856)  
> [Something Stupid”, NorthernLights37 and Zarya1480](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822859/chapters/52078639)
> 
> There are so many of course but these are some of my favs!


End file.
